


Take It All Back

by Epic_Glitter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Secret Marriage, Tags May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travelling Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epic_Glitter/pseuds/Epic_Glitter
Summary: Wherein Yasha gets to save her wife and her friend, then continue her journey with them both at her side.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH1 includes spoilers up to C2E84 and references canon character deaths. There's some sadness in this chapter, but overall fic will lean towards wish fulfillment & an overall brighter timeline than canon - so, hopefully worth it!

“Long live the Mighty Nein!” Beau shouted, raising her trost high.

“Long live the Mighty Nein!” the others echoed, each taking a long draught of their drinks.

“And one for Molly,” Beau added. “Long may he reign!”

“Long may he reign!”

Most of the night passed just as their past visits to Trostenwald did: checking for the dicks Jester drew on the tavern’s furniture and reminiscing about the day most of them first met. While the others shared laughs, hugs, and – for Veth and Jester – more than a few pranks, Yasha stood quietly leaning against the wall with a distant, guarded expression, slowly flipping through a book with dried flowers pressed between each page.

They had every reason to celebrate. Thanks to the Mighty Nein and their allies, the Chained Oblivion was once again banished, and all the cults under its influence had been defeated and disbanded. Yasha’s mind was free, her friends were safe, and the war was over.

She _should’ve _been overjoyed, really.

After those many months trapped within her own mind, forced to serve the chaotic deity’s apocalyptic ends, helpless to stop her own blade from slaying countless innocents – she’d lost any hope of peace. She never imagined she’d have another night like this, relaxing with her friends.

So why couldn’t she enjoy their last night together?

It wasn’t that she expected this fellowship to last forever. She wanted them to have long, satisfying lives – _that’s_ what she’d fought so fiercely for in their final battle! As her companions each bid her a tearful farewell, she thought of the new paths that lay before them:

Veth could finally embrace the brave woman she saw in the mirror, and return to her family.

Jester would visit Nicodranas, then set off to roam Exandria as a traveling artist, leaving a little joyful chaos in her wake.

Beau was off to track down a brash and unruly young woman who’d run away from the Cobalt Soul and, if successful, begin training the future Expositor.

Fjord would return with Caduceus to the Blooming Grove, overseeing the recovery of the Savalirwood until the Wildmother urged them onward to the next step in their spiritual journey.

When they had all left, a solemn and melancholy quiet fell over the tavern, enveloping Yasha and Caleb for several long minutes before the wizard finally spoke.

“You did not join along in the festivities,” he said, quietly stroking his familiar’s fur. “You and I always had much in common, my friend. For that, I am sorry.”

“I wasn’t _me _when I hurt all those people. And you weren’t _you _when-”

“I know.”

“And it’s over, now.”

“It is.”

“Then why does this all feel so…”

“...empty?”

Yasha nodded, quietly closing her book.

“We have lost the ones who were dearest to us,” Caleb said, draining the last of his trost. “The ones we wanted to be here, waiting to take us home.”

“Home…” she repeated with a resigned sigh, as both continued drinking in silence.

Finishing her ale, Yasha laid down a hefty tip and moved towards the door, walking out alongside Caleb. They followed a dirt road under the light of the two moons, stopping at the shore of a familiar lake.

“I have an offer for you” Caleb cautiously said, gazing at the stars reflected from the Ustaloch’s surface. “And please know, it is not something I bring up lightly.”

“Go on…?”

“I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I have been studying dunamancy and- some days I don’t know if anyone should have this power, but I have it now, and. How can I explain? Ah… the long and short of it is this. If you wanted me to, I think could I send you back.”

“Send me ‘back’? To the tavern?”

“Back to your old life, in Xhorhas. Back to the one you lost.”

“Caleb, I don’t know what to say.” Picking up a flat stone, she sent it skipping across the lake, watching the concentric ripples spread from each impact. “For months, I dreamt of hunting and fighting at her side again… But are you sure you can really do this? Have you done it before?”

“No, and no. It would be a-”

“A calculated risk?”

“_Genau_.”

Turning to face Caleb, she looked him in the eye and said “I trust you. If there's even a chance, then yes. I want to go back.”

“Very well, my friend,” he replied, reaching into his pouch. “Let us begin…”


	2. Chapter 2

Both girls stood facing each other, blades at the ready, waiting for one of the Dolorov tribe’s elders to give the signal before joining in combat. Warm brown eyes with a playful glint stared back at her through a mess of tangled hair, and for the first time in her young life, an eager and nervous sensation stirred within Yasha’s heart.

As Sky Spear sounded the horn’s call, Yasha’s sword met her opponent’s with an echoing _clang_, and she soon lost herself in the fury of battle. More than the girl’s relentless advance, more than her fluid and masterful movements, Yasha was drawn to her bold, radiant smile. Had she ever met another warrior so delighted with an intense and merciless fight?

By the time she left the training grounds that day, Yasha was grinning from ear to ear. Despite her shy nature, and despite losing their match, she’d gotten up the courage to ask the girl for her name.

Zuala.

* * *

Kneeling on a dry patch of ground amidst the surrounding moorlands, Yasha focused intently on cleaning her latest kill: a fox she’d hunted and pulled from the nearby brush.

A familiar voice called out from the distance:

“Yasha!”

Looking up from her task, Yasha saw the rest of her hunting party approaching, with Zuala in the lead, smiling and half-covered in mud.

“That’s a hearty fox for one. Care to share it?”

Replying with a bashful nod, the warmth in Yasha’s chest filled her.

* * *

The two young women left their respective tents under cover of a dark, cloudy night sky, swiftly moving away from their hunting party’s encampment. At their first meeting spot, they each checked over their shoulders before daring a quick kiss and proceeding to walk silently across the moorland to their second destination.

Yasha knew the risks – they both did. They’d _sworn_, by blood oath, to obey the edicts of the Dolorov. They’d each been assigned a mate, and to go against the tribe’s law was to invite misfortune on them all. Every plague, every invasion, _every_ disastrous turn of fate that befell their people sprung from exactly this sort of defiance – they’d all heard the stories.

Yet Yasha could not deny that each time her and Zuala stole away and shared a bed, a tempest of desire raged between them. As their furtive trysts taught her, she felt most at home in the powerful embrace of her one true love – and Zuala said she felt the same. How could _that _bring tragedy down on their tribe?

She longed for a way to stay true to both her tribe and her lover. Even when they snuck off in the night to wed in secret, they held to the traditions as much as they could: a firm forearm hold before the kiss, a beast’s sacrifice, a recitation of each spouse’s maternal lineage, and an exchange of rings and vows. It was not quite the same without witnesses, without the customary chants- but they’d _tried_.

And for the beautiful, short-lived stretch of days after their clandestine ceremony, that was enough. They were proud Dolorov, they were together, and they were married. In that time, whenever doubt and fear crept into Yasha’s mind, the words _my wife, Zuala_ calmed the wild storms within.

* * *

“I’ve started having visions, Zuala. Memories from another life. They tell me you are in terrible danger, and we must run. Someone found out about us… if we are both to live, we _must_ run. Now.”

“This is madness! You are a _warrior_, not a medicine woman. How can we leave everything behind over a _vision?_”

“_Please_. We don’t have much time.”

“Yasha…”

“Think of it this way: If we go, if we never look back – we won’t have to hide anymore. We could make a life together, you and me.”

“But who are we, without our people? How will we survive?”

“We’ll find a way, my love. We’ll _make_ a way. Trust me.”

* * *

Running by night, hiding by day.

Hunger. Cold. Exhaustion. Pain.

_Rage_.

By the time the Dolorov stopped sending groups to find and kill them, Yasha and Zuala were lost in the Xhorhasian Badlands. Their skill at the hunt barely kept the hunger at bay, and they each drifted closer to the beckoning precipice of madness.

Yasha’s visions drove her forward, a constant and sobering reminder of how much worse her fate could have been if they hadn’t left the tribe. In her waking hours, Zuala remained, as ever, her light through the darkness of their nighttime treks – and she stayed by Yasha’s side even after her wings came out during a particularly brutal ambush.

After weeks of wandering, they found themselves at the foot of an enormous, fearsome altar to the Stormlord – still fully intact.

Ferocious strength.

Desperately needed guidance.

Unshakable resolve, and a new purpose:

To serve the Stormlord, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second vignette is taken, with small modifications, from C2E46: Storm of Memories.
> 
> Thanks for reading / don't forget to love each other / see ya in Chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

_Many of my children were once like you._

_Lost. Hunted. Forced into exile._

_Follow me, and forge the strength to confront those who scorned you._

_Stay together. Fight with bravery. When lightning strikes, know I am near._

_Westward, across the Ashkeeper Peaks, your next battle awaits._

The deep, booming voice echoed within Yasha’s mind, resonating through her thoughts as thunder rolled somewhere west of the wilderness shrine.

“Did you hear that?” Yasha turned to Zuala, her wife’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in awe. “Did he speak to you, just now?”

“He did,” she replied in a dazed tone as she kneeled to add bits of sage atop the smoldering embers in the offering bowl.

“How do you feel?” Yasha asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Focused… and ready,” she replied, standing back up. “We have a powerful ally at our back.”

Removing a coin-sized emblem of the Stormlord from a small pile on the altar, Yasha held it in her open palm, her gaze drifting towards the mountains and back to Zuala’s fearless brown eyes.

“Will you stay with me, wherever the Stormlord’s path takes us?”

“I will,” she said, placing her hand in Yasha’s with the insignia pressed between them. “…but I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” she replied, lifting one hand to brush a tuft of hair from Zuala’s face.

“Our people have cast us aside, and we’re leaving Xhorhas, and now we’re serving a new god,” she said, closing her hand around the Stormlord’s mark. “I just need to know, what’s left that makes us Dolorov? What can we hold on to, if we lose our way?”

Pulling Zuala closer, Yasha leaned in and pressed their lips together in a firm, impassioned kiss. Just as she started to pull away, Zuala placed a hand on Yasha’s cheek and gave her a quick peck before resting her head against her wife’s shoulder.

“We’ll hold on to each other,” Yasha said, wrapping her arms around Zuala. “And our tribe, our ways, where we came from… that will always be part of us. No one can take that away. But now we _also_ have a choice. _We_ get to decide who we are, and who we’ll follow.”

“Thank you,” Zuala replied, running her hand through Yasha’s hair as she pulled away. “I needed that. But we should set camp – if we aim to cross the mountains, we will need to get some rest.”

“Of course, _elskan mín_. Let’s clean up the altar and get started.”

* * *

“You awake?” Yasha whispered, holding still as she waited for a response.

Instead, she heard only the soft, slow breathing of the woman who lay asleep in her arms.

Yasha carefully slipped out from under their pile of furs, got dressed, grabbed her sword, and stepped out of the tent. Outside, through the early morning twilight, she looked down to the rolling foothills below, the grasslands beyond, and a small tent city near the western horizon.

“Breathtaking,” Zuala said, emerging from the tent.

“These lands are even more beautiful, more _alive_, than our legends told.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the view,” she replied, slipping her hand into Yasha’s and intertwining their fingers. As warmth spread up the sides of Yasha’s face, Zuala added, “Not even daybreak, and I’ve already made you blush! That’s a sure sign – this will be a good day.”

Smiling, Yasha rolled her eyes and squeezed Zuala’s hand before turning to pack up the tent.

Their arduous journey through the icy mountain pass was nearly complete, and getting their first daytime glimpse of the Empire’s lands lifted both of their spirits. As they made their final descent along the mountainside, they shared hopeful banter and searched for any sign of a road.

The air grew warmer and the sun rose to its zenith as they moved through the last of the foothills, walking along a dirt path towards the tent city.

Despite the wondrous landscape that surrounded them, Yasha grew more anxious as they continued along the path. True, if they stopped into town, they might gain information and supplies… but they might also be attacked on sight. How could she be sure? The people of the Empire were a mystery to her, known only through rumor and myth.

After the way her own tribe had treated them, who _wouldn’t_ be cautious?

Then again, they couldn’t just wander the wilds together forever. The Stormlord, she knew, had greater plans for them than that…

“Yasha!” Zuala called out, suddenly stopping to draw her sword. “Watch out! Someone’s coming!”

In an instant, her own weapon was clutched in both hands, her eyes fixed on a figure approaching them from the crossroads ahead.

“Stay back!” Yasha shouted, stepping forward.

Her attention was immediately drawn to the stranger’s heavily adorned curved horns, elaborately patterned coat, red eyes, and tattooed lavender skin – far and away the most unusual person she’d ever seen!

_No_ – had a lifetime of training taught her nothing? This person was _armed, _two gleaming scimitars dangling at their hips!

She had to ignore the distractions, and protect Zuala!

“I said STAY BACK!” she bellowed, her pulse racing as the first hints of rage threatened to overtake her.

“Ohhh, wow, hey, no need to wave the pointy bits at me -ooh, I _lov__e _the whole fade-to-white deal with your hair, by the way,” the stranger said, slowing their advance and raising their hands above their head. “Let’s _all_ take a deep breath and-”

“Who _are_ you?” Zuala cut in, still ready to strike.

“How rude of me,” they replied, bowing low and flashing a practiced, charismatic smile. “Mollymauk Tealeaf. Pleasure’s _all_ mine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and see ya in Chapter 4!


End file.
